


What Makes A Home

by APgeeksout



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Everybody Lives, F/M, Post-Canon, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: They had homes, before.





	What Makes A Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



They had homes, before.

Jyn remembers Lah’mu, just barely: sunlight dappling into her secret hiding places through thick green stalks and leaves; Mama and Papa dancing around the supper table, dipping and twirling - Mama’s crystal pendant swinging out from her body in a graceful arc - laughing and stopping only long enough to drink from mugs of sweet harvest-time wine; long summer nights of stargazing, Papa giving every distant point of light a name.

Bodhi can’t forget Jedha. His sisters chattering away on the walk to school, past the Temple. His mother’s fingers, skilled with a knife and a needle and at patching up skinned knees. The marketplace: loud and fragrant with spices, sizzling meats, and frying dough, still bustling even as Imperial droids and Stormtroopers became a more and more common sight in its chaotic aisles. Smoke and dust kicked up by the red sand and soil boiling away beneath their U-Wing. A thousand other keen-edged shards shaken loose by Gerrera’s monster.

The new home they’ve found moves often: from shuttle to shuttle, from one secret camp to another temporary base, according to the needs of the Alliance. Tonight, it’s on a backwater moon where a useful contact maintains a crumbling family estate and a surprisingly efficient intelligence network, both inherited from her grandmother. Tonight, it’s a corroded but once-grand balcony where they can lie down on the same pallet of blankets in the muggy night.

The stars are bright here, with no city lights on the horizon. None of the constellations match the ones she learned to identify as a child; he could too easily pick out the pocket of darkness in the night sky where Jedha would have twinkled. They turn to face each other instead of the skies.

Tonight, home is far, far closer than the stars.


End file.
